


She Could Always Find the Bright Side

by shipatfirstsight



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, How Do I Tag, Little bit of angst, Love/Hate, Rey and Ben knew each other as children, and then fluff, beauty and the beast parallels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 11:36:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5827183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipatfirstsight/pseuds/shipatfirstsight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s a monster in Ben’s body, twisting everything she knew about him. She wonders if the girl would have loved the beast if she had known him when he was a man-before-he-was-a-monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Could Always Find the Bright Side

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. It was supposed to be one thing and then it got away from me and turned into this. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Title from Army by Ellie Goulding from Rey's spotify playlist (which just seems like a Reylo song)

When Rey was younger, a trader told her a story. Rey remembered it, always, because it was one of the few instances of genuine kindness, without hope of return, anyone had ever shown her.

But the story—it was about a man, transformed by a powerful being into a monster when he would not show kindness. He became unrecognizable to everyone who had known him. His curse could be broken, but only by someone who could learn to love him as he was and if he could learn to love. There was a time limit, of course. Soon, the monster-who-had-been-a-man lost hope. Then, in the last few months before he would be a monster forever, something changed. A girl, kind despite the circumstances of her life, asked her father for a single flower.

“What’s a flower” _?_ Little Rey had interrupted to ask. The trader had smiled, producing a packet of seeds from his jacket with a picture on the front. He handed them to her without preamble, and then continued with his story.

Her father stole the flower from the monster’s garden. The monster wanted to kill the father—but the father told the monster why he had wanted the flower, for his poor daughter. The monster told the father he would spare his life, if the father brought him the girl. The father agreed, and on returning home sent his daughter to the monster.

“Who would abandon their child to a monster? That’s selfish,” she’d interrupted again, thinking of her own family that had abandoned her.

“Hush,” the trader returned.

The girl was not afraid to be sent to live with the monster. She faced what she saw as her fate. The monster—slowly—showed the girl that there was more to him than met the eye. He could be kind. The girl learned to see beyond the curse that she didn’t know was there. The girl missed her father, though, and longed to go back to him. The monster let her go.

“Let her go? But how will he break the curse?” Rey interrupted a third time. The trader told her to wait and listen.

The monster didn’t care anymore—he would gladly be a monster forever if the girl was happy. He no longer wanted to keep her against her will. The girl returned home, and for a while she was happy. She missed the monster, though, and _something_ in her knew something was wrong. In the middle of the night, the girl left, finding her way back to the monster. She looked through his castle but couldn’t find him. _Beast,_ she cried, _where are you?_ The girl, fearing the worse, finally sank to the ground and whispered, _I love you._

Slamming doors reverberated through the castle; the door to the room she was in flung open to reveal a handsome man, one she had never seen before. He smiled at her, kindly, and she knew when she looked into his eyes. It was her monster-who-was-no-longer-a-monster. _Thank you_ the man said in a voice that sounded nothing like the monster’s but somehow _did_ , and then he returned what she had said to him in her desperation to find him, _I love you_. They kissed, of course, reunited at last. The girl and the man-who-had-been-a-monster lived happily ever after.

Rey didn’t know why she liked the story so much. Perhaps because it was so hopeful. It was nice to think that love could save someone, could change them back into what they once were. She thought that love made the girl and the monster the best versions of themselves—brave and kind and full of life altering love.

She wasn’t sure it worked that way in real life.

The monster-who-had-been-a-man that she might love—that she might grow to love maybe, who she had once loved in another lifetime when she was younger and he wasn’t a monster and they were both innocent and not hardened by life— _liked_ being a monster for all she could tell. And he had not been unkind before Snoke had gotten control of his mind. He had loved, fiercely; had tried so hard to be good.

Ben Solo could not love her—or anyone—while he was still Kylo Ren. And she wasn’t sure she could ever love Kylo Ren—she didn’t _want_ to love Kylo, even if she could. It was much easier to hate him for all he had done, everyone he had killed, including her Ben; it was easier to hate him for the pain in Leia’s eyes whenever she thought of her lost son, for the tear that trekked down Luke’s cheek when he thought of what he considered to be his failure. She couldn’t love the monster who had taken Ben from her, had wrought so much pain, even if loving him would return Ben to her and to what remained of his family. He didn’t have a curse on him anyway—something in him had _chosen_ this path.

Rey remembered Ben now. Luke had removed the block her parents had put on her mind _to protect her_ , he had said. Her parents had been Jedi Knights—they’d been off world when the Knights of Ren had attacked the new Jedi Temple. They’d left her on Jakku, always intending to try to come back. They’d died. It was hard, at times, to remember that they had done it out of love; that she hadn’t _really_ been abandoned. She wondered sometimes now if the monster who was Kylo Ren had been the one to do it. Ben had been her friend when she was little—taking care of her when her parents left on missions. Most of her memories from that time had him in them in some way.

Snoke had turned the boy she loved into an unrecognizable monster—Kylo Ren had murdered Ben Solo, and she wasn’t sure there was enough Ben left in him to make a difference. Sometimes, Rey thinks that Kylo wants to make her a monster, too, unrecognizable even to herself.

“You’re a monster,” she snarls at him when they fight, all fire to his ice. It’s easier to remember when he has a mask on then when she’s forced to look into his eyes—there’s sadness there, and the remnants of the boy who she loved and was maybe meant to be hers. There’s new anger in her voice when she says it that speaks of something deeper between them—history returned to her—new hurt because now she knows the depth of his betrayal to who he used to be and it’s personal.

“That’s not what you used to tell me,” he growls—or maybe not, it’s hard to tell through his vocalizer that turns his human voice into a monster’s—using her memories against her now that knows she remembers. She remembers comforting him, telling him that there was light in him when he had a bad day—used the Force in ways he probably shouldn’t have.

“You’re not the boy I used to know. You killed him.” She hates him she hates him she hates him. He’s a monster in Ben’s body, twisting everything she knew about him. She wonders if the girl would have loved the beast if she had known him when he was a man-before-he-was-a-monster. “You don’t have the _right_ to talk about him.”

“He was weak and foolish,” Kylo growls in that inhuman voice of his, pushing her back in a flurry of attacks with his lightsaber and it takes all of her concentration to hold him back. “He deserved to die.”

Angry—so angry—Rey goes on the defensive, pushing him back and gaining ground. A growl slips past her lips and an inhuman chuckle comes through his mask. Every swing of her lightsaber seems to say _murderer murderer murderer._ Every return swing from him seems to beat out a laugh at her pain. She redoubles her attacks, pushing him and pushing him in a flurry of hate and anger and she’s never felt so dangerously close to the edge. This time, she’ll do it. She’ll end it once and for all.

His voice-that-isn’t-his-voice breaks through her rage, perhaps guessing her intent, “If you kill me, Ben dies with me. And you’ll never get him back.”

She freezes, unable to move for a split second, and still angrier that he would use that against her. “I’ll do what I must,” she finally says, and wishes she could kill Kylo and keep Ben. She thinks it’s impossible though.

“You are weak like he was,” Kylo taunts. “You aren’t strong enough to do what needs to be done.”

But she is—or she has to be. She grabs his wrist, ready to cut off his arm, but he fights back, pushing her away. They both use the Force to send the other’s lightsaber flying out of their hands. She doesn’t need her weapon, though; her anger propels her to him, and she attacks him. They grapple with each other, rolling over and over on the ground, each trying to gain dominance. His mask falls off of his face somewhere along the way, his scar harsh and hard against the soft boyishness of his face. Rey kicks his shin, twisting them so she’s on top; she uses the Force to hold him down and ignores the way his body feels beneath hers.

“You took them from me!” she screams or screeches, and her voice doesn’t sound like her own. She’s not sure who she’s talking about—if it’s just her parents, or her parents and Han and everyone at the Jedi Academy and _Ben_. Her lightsaber is in her hand before she even really thinks about it, and she’s ready to kill him. _I will_ , she promises, steals herself, whatever.

Something in his face shifts, though; something that looks suspiciously like peace mingled with sadness, and he’s not even trying to fight against her hold and she _wonders_. There’s a thousand pains in his eyes, and she wonders what it means, wonders what the hell happened to Ben Solo to make him this man-who-is-a-monster beneath her. She wonders what it would be to die alone and beyond love like she had done alone in the hollowed out dome she had made for herself in the desert and a sob builds in her throat that she fights down.

So she does what _needs to be done_ because she’s Rey and she doesn’t want to give up hoping, not even about the likes of him regardless of what he has done, and there’s a little bit of Ben in him still, and she knows _somehow_ that Kylo hasn’t managed to murder Ben completely. She won’t be the one to do it, and she’s not going to let Kylo do it either. Rey isn’t going to let anyone do it, she just doesn’t know how exactly to drag him back to the light. She doesn’t think love will be enough to save him, even if she could love him like this. But she wants to save him, and maybe that could be enough for now.

She bashes his head with the hilt of her saber, effectively knocking him out. Rey calls Chewie on her com, getting him to lower the Falcon close to her so they can get the man-who-is-a-monster on board because there’s still something of the boy in him who was scared of his own power. And Chewbacca promised Han to protect Ben—he made no such promise about _Kylo,_ though, and Rey smiles a little when Chewie sets him down none too gently on one of the bunks in one of the rooms.

“Where am I?” he asks when he wakes up and for a split second Rey thinks she heard _who am I_? She doesn’t answer, letting him get his own bearings. He recognizes his surroundings in a minute, and he stiffens, but makes no move to leave despite the fact he’s not restrained.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” he says turning back to her, his face an impassive mask. It doesn’t work as well as his actual mask, though. Rey can clearly see the emotions flicker over his face—anger and hated and a little bit of sadness and regret. He nervously runs a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze.

Rey stands up, lets her robes fall away to reveal that she’s unclothed underneath and his gaze swivels back to her, his expression turns to gaping—he looks like a teenage boy who’s never seen a woman before and she wonder wildly if he hasn’t. “I’ve seen naked women,” he grumbles.

She laughs with a toss of her head, stepping to him. She removes his clothes, one by one, removes the barriers between him and her. Through it all, he just gapes at her, looking decidedly unsure and nothing like the monster that is Kylo Ren. She kisses him, and she doesn’t try to be gentle; she crashes her lips to him, nipping and biting hard enough to draw a little bit of blood.

He grips her to him, and it’s almost like he’s afraid she’ll slip away. Rey grips one of his hands, pushing it down. Kylo shakes her hand of off his, guides his fingers to her wet heat. She moans, breaking their kiss when he slips a finger into her; she places her hands on his shoulders, places her forehead against his. He touches her hesitantly, softly; it’s too gentle.

“Harder,” she orders, and he obeys, curling his finger inside of her. When she’s wet and ready and _aching_ , she pushes his hand away. He’s hard and ready and _aching_ beneath her. She guides him to her entrance and sinks down on him, slowly, using his shoulders for support; he grips her waist, helping her. She takes a moment to adjust to the feel of him before she _has_ to move. Rey pushes up, as slow as she sunk down. He keeps his hands on her hips and slams her back to him, quickly, like he missed the feel of her.

Their breath and heartbeats pick up speed, together, as their bodies move as one. For a while, the only sounds in the room are their moans and the slick glide of him moving in and out of her, skin hitting skin.

“Why are you doing this to me,” he pants, arching into her, and she doesn’t think he means _this_ but something deeper and it fills her with a wild kind of hope.

“Incentive,” she murmurs into his ear before biting down on his earlobe.

“Sleeping with me isn’t going to change anything,” he avows, his teeth creating pinpricks of pain and pleasure across her neck.

“I wouldn’t say that until _after_ you’ve slept with me,” she punctuates her statement by grounding down on him, and he groans, low and heady, his fingers gripping her hips in steely hands.

He chuckles, breath hot against her ear. “Maybe I’ll fuck _you_ to the dark side,” he suggests, but it doesn’t sound serious, and she’s torn between laughing because who would have thought of _Kylo Ren_ as making a joke and ignoring him. She shakes her head at him instead, grabbing one of his hands off of her hips and pushing his finger to her clit. She arches her back at the feel of his thumb on her, at the feel of him in her, moving in and out; she pushes closer to him, hugs his head to her chest.

“Come back to me, “ she murmurs, a plea and a prayer, biting down on his neck. Kylo shifts his angle, panting against her chest, his free hand gripping her back. She scratches her nails down his back when he hits a particularly sensitive spot, and he grunts at the pleasure-pain of it. He hits the spot again and again and again, rolling her clit between his thumb and forefinger, until she comes with a silent scream, and she closes her eyes as she bites his shoulder. He stills when her walls tighten around him; he comes with a moan, spilling into her. “Ben, Ben, Ben,” she says over and over, as their pleasure washes over them, hoping his name will reach him.

They collapse to the bunk, heartbeats and breath erratic. Eventually, he slips out of her and she grimaces at the lack of contact. They lay facing each other, neither making any move to leave or get closer.

“You make a very convincing argument,” he says eventually, but for all the bluster of his words he’s still out of breath and he sounds half reverent. It’s hard to see the monster when he’s smiling at her through one barely opened eye, his hair messy and tangled where she supposes she must have run her hands through it. He leans forward, kissing her nose sweetly. He moves his mouth down, though, to suckle and bite at her neck, and it’s not sweet or gentle. She gasps, wondering at this man who is part monster part boy.

“I loved Ben,” she says finally. “I can’t love you.” He doesn’t pull away from her, though, as she had been expecting; instead he presses his body closer to hers.

“I know,” he says, all his bluster from their fight gone, and then, “I don’t know how to be anything other than this anymore.”

“You were different once,” she reminds him, digging her fingers into his hair. He doesn’t answer, and she’s not sure that she wants him to.

Rey lets him go, despite Chewie’s protestations, at the next port. She looks sadly at him, and he looks sadly at her. “If you ever decide—“ she starts, but he shakes his head at her. She expects a rebuttal, some reminder of just how bad he can be, that Ben is dead and she should be smart and just give up.

“I know,” Kylo states like it’s a promise. And then, “Thank you.” She knows for him to be saved that he’ll have to _want_ to be saved. She doesn’t think that would be possible if she dragged him back to the Resistance.

* * *

 

Months go by before she sees him again. The Resistance found the location of Snoke’s temple; this is their chance to turn the tides of the war. Rey knows that Kylo will be there. She’s steeled herself for whatever will face her—his cool indifference or his murderous glare or his inhuman mask that shields all of him from her. Or Ben.

What she gets is Kylo Ren draped in his usual cloak and hood and mask, the last line of defense between Snoke and their army. His moves are slow, though, filled with pain; his breathing comes hard and harsh through his mask and all she wants to know is what’s wrong with him. Leia gets past him, and he makes no move to stop his mother who looks back at him with sadness and a question. He looks at Rey and all she wants is for him to take the damn mask off. Forever. Rey signals Leia and Luke to go ahead. They can handle Snoke without her.

“Ben?” she asks and then, “Kylo?” when he doesn’t respond. He pushes his mask and pulls it off. Rey can hardly recognize him, and she jumps a little at the shock of seeing him. His hair has been shorn down to nearly nothing, and she knows whoever did it was not gentle; there’s blood on his scalp all over and she _misses_ his hair more than she would have ever thought possible.

Long, thin scratches trace down his neck, and she knows if he were to bear himself to her, they would cover his entire body. They look fresh, like the point of a blade was drawn over his skin. His breathing still comes with immense difficulty; she thinks he might have a broken rib or two. There’s pain in his eyes, in the grimace on his mouth. All she wants to do is comfort this sad broken boy, but she’s not sure if she should. Or if it would be welcome.

“Rey,” he whispers, finally, just when she’s ready to give up, reaching for her before retracting his hand. “It hurts,” he admits with half a sob, a wild look in his eyes, but nothing left of Kylo at all. She doesn’t know if he’s talking about just his physical injuries or something more. _I’m being torn apart_ , he whispers and it surrounds her. She marvels at this; whatever Snoke had hoped to do in hurting him—and she knows somehow that it _was_ Snoke that did this to him—has backfired. “Teach me,” he begs, “ _remind me_ ,” he corrects, “how to be who I once was.”

She closes her eyes, lets the sob that has been building in her throat break free. Rey stumbles to him, collapsing in his arms, wary of his injuries. Ben gathers her to him, crushes her against him, not sharing her concern in being careful. They hear the sounds of a fight—she can _feel_ when Snoke dies. The darkness in the air doesn’t go away so much as a light comes on, filling the dark. Ben sobs against her neck, gripping her to him.

He pushes away from her, just slightly, when they hear footsteps coming toward them. Leia and Luke both look at Ben with horror and concern when they see what has been done to him. “How bad is the damage?” Leia asks, taking charge.

“Mom,” Ben whines, and it sounds more like a reflex than anything. They all share incredulous looks before laughing a little until Ben grips his ribs. He grits his teeth, speaks through them, “Two broken ribs I think; the rest of it is just cuts.”

“You need medical attention.” Leia’s look and tone leaves no room for argument. Rey wraps an arm around Ben’s waist, offering him silent support. They have to run when the temple starts to collapse around them, and she can tell he’s in pain; he offers no complaint, just leans on her, accepting her help.

Rey sits by his bedside as he sleeps, the bacta bath having healed his wounds. “He needs sleep,” the med-droid had intoned, “it doesn’t seem he’s gotten a full night’s sleep in years.

She runs a finger through the stubble on top of his head—someone evened his hair out so it doesn’t look like a shorn mess—but she misses the feel of his silky locks. He wakes with a start, looking around wildly; he sees her, tries to nervously run his fingers through his hair, then realizes he can’t. He looks pained at the memory of why his hair is gone. She grabs his hand to distract him. “Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he grumbles out, voice scratchy from sleep. There’s a softness to his face that wasn’t there before—he doesn’t look totally like the Ben of her memories, but he doesn’t look like Kylo either. He appears to be something in between. He’s the man-who-was-once-the-monster-Kylo-and-who-was-once-the-boy-Ben. His eyes are Ben’s eyes, though, and she thinks that maybe that might be enough for now.

“How do you feel?” she asks, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

“Better,” Ben says simply, gripping her hand tightly. “What have you done to me?” he asks with a smile, an odd teasing glint to his eyes that reminds her of Han, and she feels a pang of sorrow.

Rey glares at him in response, hoping he didn’t notice her momentary sadness. “What do you mean?” she snips out.

“Ah, only that you made me want to be someone I thought was dead. For you,” he admits, a bit begrudgingly.

“Hmmm,” she hums, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, and she feels a secret sort of pride. When she pulls back, he’s smiling and it looks like a real smile and it looks so _perfect_ and _natural_ on his face, and it draws out her own smile in reply. “Who are you?” she asks, half teasing, half in wonder at this strange man who seems almost like the boy she knew and loved with a child’s love.

“Someone that could love you,” Ben replies, all seriousness. “Someone you could grow to love?”

“Yes,” she murmurs in agreement, moving to kiss the corner of his mouth, “yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at shipatfirstsight if anyone wants to come talk to me :)


End file.
